"Don't call us torments, Uncle Jack," interrupted his little niece.
"Well, you see, madam, historians must be truthful. I am bound to say that the king and queen passed a law in which the children were described as 'pickles, torments, plagues, bothers, nuisances, worries,' and by twenty-four other titles of respect which I have forgotten. This law enacted:
"First—That the children were to be seen and not heard. Wherefore all children under the age of sixteen were to speak in a whisper and laugh in a whisper."
"They couldn't, Uncle Jack," broke in Bryda, "they could only smile!"
"Or grin," said Uncle Jack. "So you think that a cruel law, Bryda?
"Secondly—As the sight of a child set the royal teeth on edge, no child was to be allowed to set foot out of doors, unless between the hours of twelve and one on any night when there was neither moon or stars."
"At that rate they would never go out" said Bryda.
"Well, you see this was a law for the abolition of children; so they were to be suppressed as much as possible, of course.
"Then thirdly, the law declared—That, as little pitchers have long ears, no child should ever hear the conversation of grown-up people. Therefore children were never to be admitted into any sitting-room used by the elders of the family, nor into any kitchen or room occupied by servants."
"O-o-oh!" said Bryda; "did they keep them in the coal-cellar?"